


And The Righteous Man Said, "Stay"

by SeraphWithAShotgun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate "Swan Song" Ending, Animal Traits, Avian Studies, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Birdwatching, Bobby Singer is Dean and Sam Winchester's Father, Castiel (Supernatural) Loves Cats, Castiel Speaks Bird, Castiel Speaks Enochian, Castiel Whump, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Cheep Cheep, Chirping, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean and Feelings, Dean and Mental Health Issues, Dean is Not Oblivious, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Enochian, Enochian is Bird Noises, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Family Don't End in Blood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description, Healing, How Do I Tag, Humor, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inaccurate Wings, Innuendo, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John Winchester's Journal, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Link, Mind Meld, My First Fanfic, Nesting, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Submission, Oblivious Castiel, Other, Pet Birds, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-05x22, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester and Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester is a Good Bro, Sam Winchester is a Saint, Sensory Deprivation, Sensory Overload, Slow Burn, Some Plot, Wing Grooming, Wing Injury, Wing Oil, Wisecracks, i wrote this at 2am, never stop fighting, too many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 01:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphWithAShotgun/pseuds/SeraphWithAShotgun
Summary: It's been almost half a year now, and the Winchesters have almost given up on finding Cas, until a freak accident at Bobby's reveals that their angel might not be as dead as he first seemed...





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Season 5 finale, with no knowledge gained afterwards taken into account. Dean, Sam, and Bobby lived, Lucifer and Michael are in the cage, and Castiel was never reformed by God after he exploded. Gabriel is present mostly because I liked him from the start, he has no intentions of forcing this through the season's future plot line from canon.

The first warning they got was Bobby calling them on their private phone line only twenty miles after leaving him to sift through their collected tomes, followed by a growing plume of smoke in the rearview mirror. Exchanging startled looks, Dean threw his phone to Sam and forced a U-turn on the gravel in seconds while Sam fiddled with the volume.

“Bobby, we’re turning back towards you, there’s a lot of smoke. What’s happening?”

The receiver caught several bangs and crashes in the background, fizzling for a few tense seconds before the familiar southern drawl filled the silence.

“You boys should drive careful, something big landed ‘bout a kilometer off and it left a crater. I ain’t about to go looking for trouble, but if you find it bring the thing to me so I can give it a fresh can o’ whoop ass.” The phone clicked, and they both gave it stormy glares before Sam flicked it off grumpily.

“Well that was...cheery.”

Dean’s lips twitched, mood dampened by the billowing smoke coming from somewhere near the middle of Bobby’s car part “garden”, unable to think of anything that could cause craters and fire besides angels and demons. After buying lost cause automobiles they’d siphoned up all the gasoline as soon as they arrived, worried about a fire reaching Bobby’s wood home and paper research.

“Yeah, no kidding. Hey, what do you think? Demons or angels?” Sam gave him a flat look.

“The Tooth Fairy. Dean, maybe we just didn’t hit up every car, and something sparked an explosion. It’s not always demons.”

“Sure it isn’t Sammy. Let’s grab the salt and water once I find a safe place to park Baby.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam leaned out towards the window, scanning the nearing horizon for any sign Bobby was making his way down the asphalt towards them. With no sign of his truck until they reached Bobby’s house, and the ever-present column of ash rising up, they popped the trunk lid with practiced speed, grabbing all the supplies they could carry-Dean with the knife, Sam with a gallon of holy water and extra salt rounds for their rifles.

Running up the steps two at a time, they ensure the house is empty and locked before beginning the sprint through the maze of warped metal and clouds of smog, coughing and stumbling only marginally slowing them down. The ten minutes it took them to find the source of the flame felt like an eternity, but the sight made Dean's blood freeze solid, barely registering Bobby walking towards them from further off in the charred area.

Lying upon the crumbling ground, seared by flame and broken badly in the fall, were the curled, long stretches of jet black wings, the span of them wide enough to drape over the edges of the crater even as they flickered like firelight and shrank down to fold inwards, only an average human's height long. And below that, lay the equally twisted and ruined body of Castiel.


	2. Kindle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Castiel several months after his vessel's violent death, Sam and Dean are faced with the prospect that their friend may not have come out as unscathed as his physical body let on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything, and I have no beta-reader!

"So, how long are you planning to sit there for?"

Dean ignored Sam's soft question easily, one hand brushing over the callouses of Castiel's right hand with light fingertips, while his eyes never stray from tracing the curve of his slack jawbones and the dip of his lashes upon his cheeks. Gently, Dean encased the other limp hand in both of his own, warm fingers massaging at the unused joints subconsciously as his body angled forwards. Cas' body was lifeless and pale, swathed in gauze and splinted along one side, even as his form shifted and shuddered with the awkward position his newly physical wings were folded in to accommodate splints along each other.

It had been almost three days, and Cas hadn't risen from his coma-like stasis yet. Second-degree burns wrapped around his torso like massive claw marks, followed by fractures along his right leg, a clean-broken right arm, lacerations across the span of his body, and...his wings. God, his wings were bad. A now-familiar wave of sickness went through Dean at the reminder of how bad of a shape they were in the first day, how touch-and-go it had been just last night. Dean hadn't left the room for even a second, and it must've been a testament to how his expression looked that neither Sam nor Bobby had the heart to force his leave, merely maneuvering his grip on Cas's body out of the way when they needed to clean, stitch, or re-wrap.

Dean jolted himself out of his thoughts before the scenes of re-breaking poorly mended bone, stitching together gashes, and long stretches of balancing fever on a thread truly invaded his awareness. He carded his fingers gently through Castiel's dirty, long brow hair as if to soothe, and Cas' expression seemed to smooth out minutely, some of the tension bleeding out of his wing muscles in bursts to rest them back down upon the bed-Dean his a wince at the smears of dirt on the sheets, they hadn't had the equipment or space to clean the wings, merely secure them in place somewhat. It was looking more and more like Dean would have to wave down someone walking around outside for a pot to piss in, as he refused to get up, when gradually the flutters of Castiel's eyelids made Dean's predicament null and void.

"Sammy! He's waking up!" Dean yelled down the hallway, voice wobbling a bit as he whipped around back to Cas' body, cradling his neck in one hand while he reached for a water bottle with the other, ready for the inevitable thirst or wish to speak immediately. Sam stomped in moments later, but Dean held up a finger to stop him from charging forwards.

"Cas? You okay there, buddy? Take it easy, we got you. We got you, Cas." Dean murmured into the silence, as Castiel's eyes snapped open to reveal frightened icy blue, his hand preventing Cas from jostling something open as he weakly attempted to move his arms and instead just twitched his unbroken hand in Dean's grip. A weak whine emitted from the angel's throat, thready and hoarse, and he pushed down the urge to kill something. Cas shouldn't sound like that, but there wasn't time to think about that particular reaction just yet. Castiel was awake, and his wild-eyed terror was definitely escalating fast, if the flickering lights were anything to go by. He didn't seem to notice his own death grip on Dean's fingers, at least, so he gripped back just as tight and tried to catch the bleary gaze before something blew out.

"Cas! It's okay, I promise, you're at Bobby's, it's gonna be okay. See? Just me. Just Dean." He attempted to ease the steely fingers off him, only for the same whine from before to resurge, accompanied by the thud of a few books falling off their stacks in the corner, so Dean decided to abandon that in favor of rubbing circles into Castiel's neck with his thumb, wrenching the lid of the water bottle off and hesitantly offering it up to Cas's chapped lips. Fortunately, Castiel was put at ease long enough by his assurances that Dean was able to prop him up to drink, not letting the frantic angel have more than a trickle at a time lest his thrashing caused a spill. 

"You're okay, buddy."

"H-w..." Castiel's throat constricted for a few seconds, and he let out a pitiful bout of coughs before trying again, an impatient twitch of his fingers in lieu of a wave getting Dean to set aside the bottle for a moment. 

"How did you...find me...?"

"You...fell, Cas," Dean cursed the break in his voice, and forced on. "You fell near here, got banged up on the landing...you should work on that, you made a crater in Bobby's lawn." He tried for a laugh, as Castiel slowly frowned in thought.

"...I di n-not...mean, to f-f-fall. I do not...remember-!" Breaking out in hacking noises again, Cas winced lightly as the action caused his ribs and wing to be jarred, leaning away from Dean's hand the moment he seemed to register it, resting on his back. 

"Please...do not...Dean, that hurts..." Castiel's head lolled a bit, body relaxing back into the bed sheets tiredly.

Dean's lips thinned in worry, but he allowed Cas to drift off again, Sam immediately placing a reassuring grip on his shoulder before going back out to get Bobby, eyeing the angel's eagle-like wings with something between bemusement and resignation-a look shared among all three of them since the moment it had been decided they'd eventually have to clean Castiel's feathers, once they were healed enough to stretch out...and, once Cas himself was awake long enough to teach them how. Dean sighed to himself, wiped his mildly clammy hands off on his jeans, and rose from the chair with creaking limbs and a groan of relief as his muscles finally stretched for the first time in days.

Bobby gave him a side-eyed assessment the moment Dean walked in, and passed over a beer and a plate of eggs without comment. Nodding in thanks, Dean immediately drained the whole thing in one go and started shoveling food in, to the raised eyebrows of both other hunters.

"There somethin' we should know, son?"

Dean brushed off the "son" label with a slight flush, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before speaking, voice rough from lack of use and chugging.

"Cas didn't know where he was. He...do you think something knocked him down?" All three of them exchanged wary, concerned looks. 

"God, I hope not." Sam muttered, grasping for a slice of toast.

"What d'you want to do with him?" Bobby aimed at Dean, as things concerning the angel tended to be.

"...Keep him here. It's safe, defendable, warded to hell and back. He could...lay low, until we figure out what happened."

A thumping sound issued from the ceiling, where Cas' room was located above. Dean made to stand up, but Sam gave him a deadpan look, taking the stairs two at a time before he can do more than take a step.

"Dammit, Sammy!", Dean stomped once, rounding around to catch sight of Bobby's smug smirk at him. "What're you laughing at?"

"Nothing, boy. Your angel up there better be worth it, I ain't getting those dirt stains out before the next year. What'd he say to you, anyway?"

Dean shuffled uncomfortably, stealing Sam's beer and taking a swig as he sat down with his head bowed.

"He didn't seem alert, couldn't talk much. He didn't notice the dirt or splints, but he felt a helluva lot of pain. How much are you giving him of that Vicodin stash?" Bobby huffed in amusement and surprise.

"Apparently not enough...what're you so worried over? It's not like a bit of pain's stopped him before."

Dean opened his mouth to retort, a stinging pile of 'He shouldn't have been in pain in the first place!' on his tongue, when a choked half-scream bounced off the walls from the stairwell, followed by every bulb in the hallways near it shattering.

"Stop! Do not look!"

Before he knew what was happening, Dean was sprinting upstairs once more, wildly cursing as he jogged towards Cas' room. Assuming the worst, he slips out a flask of holy water and a knife, before kicking the door in-unlocked already, so no real damage was done-only to stop in his tracks, gaping.

Beside the door was a shocked, bruised Sam still holding a water bottle in his hand, arm outstretched. Opposite him on the bed, Castiel had managed to force his body into a crouch, desperately curving his body to try and hide his wings. Several matted, soaked feathers were strewn on the floor and sheets around him, but Castiel didn't seem to care, chest heaving so hard Dean was worried he'd break another rib just by breathing so hard.

Scrambling backwards until his injured wing bumped the wall, Cas yelps loudly in pain and clutches at his shoulder blade in an attempt to soothe, training a tear-streaked, wide-eyed stare on the Winchesters.

"Stay back! Don't look at them!"

"Cas, calm down!" Dean snaps, holding out his arms placatingly only to drop them when Castiel hurled a vase at his head and missed by an inch. "What don't you want us to see? C'mon, tell us. I promise we'll do it."

Castiel's face breaks down a bit-something that rattles Dean and Sam to their cores, not knowing him to be this open-and he rakes a thin hand through his hair, starting to gasp out a few sobs of pain once the agony of moving begins to force his body back to calmness. Shakily, he pulled clumsily at the sheets until they covered him completely, allowing a few more feathers to wrench out of their place in his plumage.

"My wings...p-please...don't look at my wings!"

An invisible force wrenches on both brothers navels, pushing them quickly out of the room, so the last view they get of the room is the bookshelf toppling over and blessedly miss the bed by just barely a foot, before the door slams loudly shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @trenchcoatsandbowties, @outerspacejosh, and the two guests who left kudos as of this chapter, and @Erin966 for bookmarking!


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